The sailors continued to sing even after the sun completely sank below the horizon. Maxi listened to their songs as she ate the food brought to her cabin. Although it was a stretch to say that the rustic tune was pleasant on the ears, the sailors’ boisterous voices felt like a promise that everything was well.
Maxi’s anxiety gradually faded, and she lay on the bed to try to fall asleep. Despite her best efforts, however, she only felt more alert as the night grew deeper. At the first bluish hint of dawn, Maxi raced up to the deck, tired of tossing and turning.
The sailors were still singing, this time to the tune of a shawm and a mandolin. Their voices no longer sounded as vivacious as yesterday. Following the melody as it gently filled the still morning, Maxi made her way around the deck to the stern. A group of sailors sat in the middle atop cargo crates arranged in a circle. Around them, a few knights stood guard at the railings with longbows slung across their backs.
Maxi spotted Riftan and rushed to him. As if sensing her presence, Riftan glanced over his shoulder and scowled.
“Why are you not in the cabin? It’s not safe for you to be out yet.”
Maxi clung to his arm. When she peered into the darkness, she could see the rock face that rose above the waves appearing and disappearing behind the fog.
“Shouldn’t…we be safe now…a-at such a distance?”
“We can’t be sure. They sometimes chase after—”
“Don’t be so rigid, Commander,” interjected Hebaron, leaning against the railing. “Even if they do come after us, we only have to block out their voices, no?” Hebaron gave aloud, undignified yawn and shot Maxi a mischievous smile. “I’m afraid listening to gruff voices all night has given me a headache. Would you please say something, my lady? I would like to cleanse my ears with your pure voice.”
“Quit your blather,” Riftan said coldly through clenched teeth.
Hebaron remained unfazed. “Do not be so petty, Commander. A man should have a heart as big as the sea.”
“Shut your trap before I toss you into the sea.” Riftan placed a hand on Maxi’s back and led her to where the sailors and knights were gathered. “We were having meat stew. You should have some as well while you’re here.”
They stopped before a large cauldron full of thick, steaming soup. A sailor filled a bowl and handed it to Riftan. Maxi accepted the proffered meal and lowered herself onto a barrel. Returning with his own share, Riftan sank down next to her. Maxi followed his lead and began eating heartily as she observed the faces of the sailors. They all looked haggard from singing through the night. Those who still had energy to spare were gathered near the stern, humming the shanty.
The young mandolin player abruptly called out to Riftan. “Good sir, may I play a tune for your wife?”
Maxi blinked at the young man’s unexpected request. Riftan paused in wolfing down his soup to turn to the sailor.
“She must be tired of listening to the sea shanties…” the sailor added. “If the lady has a song she wishes to hear, I shall do my best to play it.”
Riftan regarded the young man for a moment, then turned to Maxi. “Is there a song you wish to hear?”
All eyes were on her. Maxi shook her head. “N-No…”
“I may not look like it, but I can recount most of the ballads, my lady. You need only to name the song.” The young sailor looked at her with such anticipation that Maxi was unable to refuse him outright, and her expression grew troubled.
Although she had listened to countless songs from the bards at Croyso Castle, now that she was put on the spot, she could not name a single one. Suddenly, she remembered the one she had heard during the Spring Festival in Anatol.
“I-I do not know the title…but it is a song I heard during a village festival….”
The sailor cocked his head at Maxi’s vague description. “Do you know the lyrics, my lady?”
Sifting through her memories, Maxi hummed to him parts of the song she remembered.
The sailor smiled brightly. “Ah, that is ‘Adelian’s Poem.’ ’Tis a ballad all the way from the time of the Roem Empire. I’m quite fond of it myself. I shall do my best to put on a worthy performance, my lady.”
He straightened and began to pluck at the mandolin. The melody that wafted out was slower and more mournful than the one Maxi remembered, but a slow smile spread on her lips as she listened to the nostalgic tune. Soon, the young sailor’s charming baritone resonated across the stern.
The knight kisses the earth
And rises to the heavens.
His beloved oak tree,
Alone on a hill,
Waves slender branches in the wind.
